Trenches
by GrungierNine0
Summary: Life as an Imperial Guardsman? Not a cakewalk when the greatest hunt in history is on (Again, written on a cellphone, so don't hate. Errors both grammatical or otherwise will hopefully be found and fixed)
1. Chapter 1

Artillery fire rained down on the trench, showering the huddled soldiers of the Imperial Guard in debris and shrapnel. A Leman Russ Battle Tank fired it's own 120mm smoothebore cannon down range, exploding in an enemy pillbox.

Private Lucius Kobel of the 5th Verthandi Rangers was ankle deep in mud, it clung to his boots with every step. Holding his Accatran Mk XI shotgun close to his chest, praying to the God-Emperor for protection. The Leman Russ was hit by a Rebel anti-tank shell, tearing through the turret armor and reducing the machine-gunner to bloody rags.

A soldier of the Krieg Death Korp lay next to him, blood pouring from a gunshot wound in the neck. A Heavy Stubber spat meter long tongues of fire towards the enemy trench. Peaking over, Lucius saw the bullets tearing through soldiers, spraying blood and severing limbs with each shot.

"Where are you from, Lucius?"

Kobel saw his acquaintance, Ollanius Vergen, cradling his own shotgun to his chest. Kobel believed the other was from Cadia, maybe Calth.

"Verthandi. Heard of it?"

An enemy mortar flew over the trench, exploding behind them and sending screams of pain through the air.

"Can't say I ever have. Don't take it the wrong way."

"Don't blame you. I barely know anything about Cadia, or Calth."

"Cadia. Fifth Infantry Regiment, Company B. You?"

Another Leman Russ charged forward, small arms fire pinged off of it's hull, firing it's main gun as it went.

"Fifth Verthandi Rangers."

For the last six years, a Crusade had been launched to retake a group of rebellious planets on the Empire's fringe. A few million casualties later, Segmentum Command had given the Crusade a new Lord General, and a new deadline. Brutally, bit by bit, the Imperium drove the Rebels back.

Lord General Joseph Hesperius ran his armies mercilessly, seemingly without regard for the lives he was trading for victory.

Basilisk fire thousands of meters away rained down on both sides, the shells exploded over trenches and in them, killing ever more. The Leman Russ took a shell in it's main chassis, exploding brilliantly with tooth jarring force.

"We might be next up. Get ready." Ollanius said dryly.

A Guard Sergeant shouted orders over the din of battle,

"Up! Up you damned cowards!"

Hundreds of soldiers readied themselves, knowing a bullet could very easily find them as soon as they stood. One broke from the line, running back to friendly lines. A single shot was taken, by the Sergeant, puncturing the back of the man's head. And destroying his face.

"Cowards will be shot! Stand and fight, for the Emperor!"

Lucius and Ollanius both knew their jobs, run in before everyone else, clearing an offensive foothold in the enemy position.

An enemy Lascannon fired, a red beam of energy sliced into a soldier a few meters away, frying him and splitting him into two charred pieces. He hadn't even screamed.

A Macharius Heavy Tank rolled forwards, firing every one of it's massive guns into the enemy trench. The enemy was distracted.

"NOW!"

A battle-cry came from most soldiers in the line, stepping over the top of the trench. Bullets ripped through dozens, killing some spectacularly, wounding others grievously. Kobel screamed with all of the air in his lungs, firing his weapon from the hip. A Stubber returned a volley of high-calibre bullets, ripping through men left and right of him.

He made it, shotgun already raised to bear on an autogun toting Rebel. He fired, aiming for center mass. The buckshot tore through the torso of his enemy, still having enough speed to lodge itself into the leg of another.

Kobel heard one of the enemy shout in their strange dialect of Gothic, "Shotgun-Nutzer! Tötet sie jetzt!"

He saw line of friendly Leman Russ tanks bearing down on their current position with all haste.

Enemies were still using the gun nest nearest to him, even now re-sighting a Lascannon. He charged down the trench, his primary goal achieved, get a foothold. He was nearly there, one of the Rebels sighted him, bringing the local pattern of high-calibre bolt action rifle to bear.

"Kaiser Abschaum kommen für das Nest!"

The soldier fired, the round tore into Kobel's shoulder, knocking him backwards. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking his uniform. The Rebel strode forward, bayonet at the ready.

The man stood closer, ready to strike. Another figure ran into view, firing his shotgun at point blank range. Tearing the Rebel into shreds.

"Kobel, are you wounded?"

"No" his words were troubled, "but we need to take that Lascannon in the nest."

Lucius stood, shoulder flaring in pain, and drew his Laspistol. The gunners fired towards the tanks, fire poured from a gouge cut in the armor plating of one vehicle. The gunners could easily kill all of the tanks, without being stopped.

Lucius and Ollanius barged into the fortified position. Vergen fired into the back of the guns' main gunner, splattering the gun in blood and bone. The secondary gunner flipped about, pistol nearly out of it's holster.

Lucius fired three times into his upper body, killing the gunner. Lucius slumped against the nests' wall, while Ollanius drew a flare from his belt. He activated the ignition, waving it through the air so the Tanks would know he was a friendly.

"You alright Kobel?"

"Not really, can we find a medic?"

(How was it? Just a quick little 40K story, I'll continue it if people want to read it. Review, favorite, whatever you want. Da Svidaniya!)


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't fire! Don't fire damn it, friendlies!"

Verthandi Second Armored Regiment Lieutenant Collyn Pasanius, Leman Russ Pilot Grade 2, shouted to the gunners in the crowded tank cabin.

The Vox-Operator held up his hand, paying close attention to the orders being relayed to all tanks. He took off the bulky headphones,

"Command is ordering all Tanks forward, they want the damn Red Line."

A Heavy-Bolter operator looked up from the telescopic sight of his own gun, scrutiny on his face.

"Does Hesperius even know he's gettin' us killed?"

Collyn spoke last,

"If Command wants us to die for the Emperor, we die for the Emperor. Now hop to it!"

The line of Leman Russ tanks lurched forward, Basilisk's at the rear fired onto the enemy fortifications. Explosions and the screaming of flying shrapnel filled Collyn's ears. The Loader slammed a fresh shell, 120 millimeters of explosive fury, into the firing chamber.

Collyn started the prayer,

"Ipse autem Imperator iter illuminabit. Per dolor et metus."

"Voluntas eius, qui deducit nos."

They chanted the words back to him while the Leman Russ neared the enemy field of fire.

"Milites sumus in terram."

They crested the ridge, shells of broken tanks as far as they could see, one tank in the formation took a rocket in it's treads.

"Protegit Imperator!"

The lead gunner punched the firing mechanism, the whole compartment rocked, down range, a gun nest burned brightly. But a dozen more could replace it, the Bolters launched scores of explosive rounds into Rebel infantry, shattering torsos and exploding limbs.

"Lascannon! Get a shell onto it!"

Again the tank lurched, the shell exploded above the gun-crew showering them with razor sharp shrapnel. Another Lascannon down the trench fired, it cut into a Chimera Transport a hundred meters away from their own Leman Russ.

The passengers ran out, but the enemy had them sighted. With unerring accuracy, hundreds of bullets sliced into the soldiers. A small number managed to jump into a crater.

"Collyn, get us over there!"

Collyn slammed the pedals, turning the tank as fast as the engine would allow, and made a beeline for the doomed infantry. Blood pumped in his veins knowing he could easily die.

One of the Bolter-Operators fell back, clutching a wound in his chest.

"Shit, snipers. Look out!" He called out.

The other gunner rushed to him, medkit ready. The tank lurched again, another shell exploded among the enemy. Collyn drove the tank on more. They stopped near the crater, Lascannons' were nearly ready to fire on the Leman Russ.

"Give 'em cover!"

The lead gunner grabbed a different shell, one loaded with chemicals, and fired it back to the enemy. Sarin gas spread over enemy nests, gunners coughing and choking. A soldier in the crater, he looked like a Mordian Iron Guard Trooper, waved frantically.

A missile spun through the air, closer and closer, the lead gunner called out,

"BRACE!"

Everything went dark for Collyn as he was slammed against the metal plating. He woke seemingly seconds later, the Mordian loomed over him, his voice muffled by the intense ringing in Collyns' own ears.

"Are you alright?"

Collyn could speak, barely.

"What happened?"

The crack of rifles interrupted him, a soldier in the crater reloaded his Autogun.

"Your tank got hit, we pulled you out."

Collyn strained his neck, the burning hull of his Leman Russ burned brightly.

"Did you get anyone else?"

The Mordian shook his head, Collyn's crew had died trying to get back to the tank to pull him out.

"Piss. What's your name?"

The Mordian extended his hand, nearly shouting above the clamor,

"Grigory Park, Mordian Fifth Rifles."

Collyn took the hand,

"Collyn Pasanius. Verthandi Second Armored Regiment, Leman Russ Pilot Grade 2."

"It would be lovely to chat, but we've got to go."

Grigory raised his fist, he shouted loudly,

"Everyone get ready! We're moving when I say so."

One of the other soldiers called from his own position,

"We won't need to, look!"

He pointed up. Trails of fire and smoke came from the sky, metal pods at the front of each trail.

"By the Throne, Astartes!"

Collyn had never seen one, let alone been there when they used their famous Drop-Pods. His heart beat even harder.

The pods slammed down, shaking the ground violently, they were black and silver. And adorned with the icon of an iron hand. The doors of the pods flew open, massive armored forms spilled out.

"The Flesh is Weak!" One of them screamed with every ounce of rage he possessed.

Rebel gun positions fired upon the new threat, but it was to late. The Iron Hands were among them, slicing with chainswords and executing with Bolters.

Rebel Ogryns, Collyn recognized their massive forms, charged from bunkers and met the Iron Hands in the trenches. The battle went from a slaughterhouse to an actual fight. Three meter tall giants fought with ferocity, an Ogryn was cut into with a chainsword, the giant seemed not even to notice as he fired a ripper-gun into the Astartes.

One Marine broke from a Drop-Pod, sprinting towards the crater with all speed. Collyn spoke,

"The Emperor Protects."

The Space Marine stopped at the edge of the crater. Small-arms fire pinged off his blessed power armor. He pointed to Collyn

"Is he wounded Guardsman?"

Grigory nodded like a recruit,

"Yes sir."

The Astartes stepped down into the crater, Bolter slung at his hip. He reached down to Collyns prone form, and grabbed his arm.

Collyn was lifted onto the armored giant's shoulder, pain flared in his legs and knees.

"At three, we run for friendly lines."

Collyn shook nervously, intimidated by the Iron Hand.

"1, 2, 3! Go, go, go!"

Collyn shook violently as the Astartes sprinted for friendly territory, he couldn't even hear the Marine breathing. A normal man would have passed out hundreds of meters ago. The Space Marine jumped into the trench, medics waiting there already, Collyn was dropped to the expecting Medics.

"May I ask your name, lord?"

"Veteran-Sergeant Baile Cassius, Iron Hands Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes."

Collyn felt reality slipping away when the medics drugged him, he mumbled one last time.

"Thank the Throne."

(How was that? Review, PM, all that guff. Da Svidaniya!)


	3. Chapter 3

Joseph Hesperius sat, a lit cigar hung from his mouth, looking over the newest reports from the front. Even with the arrival of the Iron Hands, the Rebels were still putting up an intense fight. And now he had in his hands, a report confirming Rebel transports had been detected on the long-range augeries.

"Do we know how many ships?" His voice was deep and gruff, appropriate of a Guard Commander of fifty years.

One of his aides spoke, "No sir, but we know they're bringing reinforcements."

"Shit. Clausel, when are we meeting with the Astartes captain?"

Clausel lifted his head, and spoke quickly, "He is heading here as of now sir."

"Good. Gentleman, you are dismissed."

Hesperius readied his uniform, making sure each medal was in it's right place. He checked the Plasma pistol in it's holster, and adjusted the chainsword at his belt. He needed to look his best for a meeting with the Angels of Death. Artillery fire shook the bunker every few seconds, he was close to the front.

Joseph stepped from the bunker, the smell of ozone and gunpowder filled his nose. Guardsmen up and down the trench looked to him, and returned their eyes to the West. He strode quietly and purposefully towards the arranged meeting area, mud caked onto his boots.

He could already see the massive armored form of the Iron Hands Captain, black armor matching the smoke-darkened sky above. A landspeeder sat behind him, the pilot sat idly. The Captain stepped forward, 3-meters of purest wrath.

Hesperius saluted the Astartes, "Commander Joseph Hesperius, at your service, lord."

The Captain removed his helmet, revealing a near mechanical face.

"Captain Conrad Septim, at yours."

Hesperius extended his hand, and the Astartes accepted, a ridiculous posture really. Guardsmen all around stood in awe of the Space Marine, clad in Power Armor and far taller than anyone around.

"Captain, shall we return to my bunker to discuss our plans?"

"Actually, Commander, we must discuss our 'plans' in the Landspeeder. I'll explain during the ride."

The Commander was puzzled, what would require that? But, he knew it was unwise to keep an Astartes waiting. Much less an Iron Hand. He finally pointed and said,

"Lead on."

They walked back towards the waiting vehicle, already with engines emanating a high pitched whine. Septim stepped in first, Hesperius right behind.

They lifted off, speeding towards the landing site of the Astartes Thunderhawk to the North-West. Joseph spoke out above the rushing wind.

"What was it that was to important for my bunker Captain?"

"The Mechanicus would like to keep it's business out of the ears of the more pious of the Emperor's servants."

He thought enemy spies would hear the more than critical information, and report it to their commanders.

"The Mechanicus doesn't normally concern itself with rebellious planetary systems. What is it they want?"

Septim turned his head towards the pilot, who looked straight ahead, Ignoring the conversation.

"The Priesthood believes the Rebels have something very valuable in their possession. So valuable as to warrant secrecy over the matter."

Hesperius knew what that ment. It ment that should anyone asides him know this information, his head would be the first to be taken.

"What do they think it is? And why would I be privy to this, they usually don't tell anyone about their little games."

He walked thin ice now, Septim spoke.

"They understand your scepticism. And would like to confront you about it. In person I may add."

Joseph was silent as they neared the Astartes camp. A simple command bunker, a landing pad for the Company Thunderhawk, and a few gun nests. After having disembarked the Landspeeder, they walked to the small bunker.

A Terminator stood before the door, easily dwarfing even Captain Septim. He looked towards them both and simply nodded, and stepped to the side of the reinforced plasteel door. Septim reached over Joseph and grabbed the opening mechanism, rotating the steel lock through muscle strength alone.

The inside was dark, dark enough that Joseph had to strain his eyes. A faint rasping came from the dark. The door sealed behind the Astartes and Imperial Guard Commander, locks rotating into place.

"Commander Hesperius, I would like to introduce you to Explorator Magos Anson Vect. Magos, if you will."

A rust-red robed figure stepped into view, but Hesperius could barely pay attention, his view was stuck to...it's face. What had once been a proud strong face, was now two pale-red bionic eyes, a mass of metallic tubes and implants covered the rest of his hosts face.

Mechanical dendrites stood on end, gently quivering, a servo-skull at the end of most turned back and forth, as though they were dogs questioning the safety of their master. But they didn't bother him, not even the massive mechanical shoulder mounted arm did, or the Plasma-Launcher embedded into the Magos' arm.

The mouth did, what were once lips was now a gruesome graft, a vox-caster sat in the jaw. Not even a trace of humanity remained on the figure before him. The Magos held his pole-axe like staff at his side with a mechanical arm. His voice was plain, level and intimidating.

"Hesperius, Joseph. Born: M41.929. Septim, Conrad, Adeptus Astartes. Born: M41.621."

While Septim's implants had not bothered him, Vect's frightened him deeply. He spoke slowly, hoping not to appear alarmed.

"Magos, shall we begin our discussion?"

The Magos cocked his head slightly, a noise came from the speaker, raspy and weak. It took a moment before Joseph realized the thing was laughing.

"Commander, I can assure you that beneath this shell I am most definitely human. And yes, we will begin now."

Joseph was still uncomfortable.

"As I understand Commander, your Crusade is being led on the premise of bringing these wayward planets back into the Imperium, correct?"

Joseph nodded.

"It is believed by some in the Priesthood, myself included, that the Rebels here have something important on their possession. We would like your help to find it."

Joseph was skeptical,

"What would that be? Most of the Mechanicus would rather not tell a Guard Commander such as myself, I would like to know why this is different, and why you didn't come here with at least an Explorator vessel. As most of you do."

"Well said Commander, but I came with enough of a force as is." He nodded towards Captain Septim, who hadn't spoken at all. "As for the 'why', the Order would like it if my discovery was kept secret for a time."

"That means, when the Guard finds what we seek, we need utter quiet and secrecy."

"That still doesn't answer the 'what' Magos."

The Magos "laughed" again.

"That is it Commander, we do not know what it is. We do happen to know that it's discovery could change the tide of this Crusade. Maybe much more."

"We know it's a cache of some kind, maybe containing weapons, technology, ancient schematics. Maybe even historical records. We just need someone to find it."

Joseph nodded. He understood now.

"Good, Commander Hesperius, you are free to go."

(CHAPTER 3! And just so you know, I know Hesperius is very old, but it's normal for successful Guard Commanders to live very long lives. Ol' Yarrick is a couple centuries old I believe. And as for Astartes, they're effectively immortal, but can still be killed. Review, PM, all that fun stuff. Da Svidaniya!)


	4. Chapter 4

Anson Vect watched the leaving Guard commander, baleful eyes glowing dimly. Captain Septim watched him as well.

"Was it wise to tell him Magos?"

Vect turned, drawing himself to his full height; Just shy of seven feet, he towered over un-augmented humans,

"Because he wants glory, captain."

"Explain your reasoning."

"He wants to be remembered, like Macharius before him. In his mind, finding something like this will give him that glory."

"That doesn't explain much Magos."

"If he wants to be remembered for finding a treasure trove, as we believe it, he will be much more careful with his guns and bombs."

Septim understood,

"Therefore removing the chance of the Cache being destroyed accidentally. Excellent thinking, Vect."

Vect knocked on the bunker door with his mechanical arm, it opened slowly as the Terminator at the door pulled the heavy thing back.

"Captain, the Imperium stands to gain unlimited power if this artifact is found. More than you can imagine."

Septim followed closely as they walked to a Land Raider,

"What is it, Magos?"

"An STC my friend. Containing schematics to Omnissiah knows what, but an STC nonetheless."

Septim stopped in his tracks, awe glued him to the ground.

"By the Emperor. An actual STC, but if that's the case, why hasn't the Mechanicus sent an entire Explorator Fleet?"

Vect turned back to him from the door of the Land Raider.

"Because the Fabricator-General believes I would be more effective at getting results than a fleet of 'non-sensible extremists' in his own words."

Septim almost shuddered, both the premise of an STC, and the knowledge of Anson Vect's...previous exploits.

"Where are we going now Magos?"

Vect entered the Land Raider,

"To the planetary Star-Port my friend."

"But that's in Rebel held territory Magos. We need more than a Land Raider to get there."

Vect looked down to the Astartes.

"Who's to say I haven't garnered us support enough to raid the Port? I have my ways and methods Captain. Now, lets be off."

Septim stepped into the Land Raider, already a Squad of Iron Hands waited silently. Along with the Magos' personal Servitor retinue. Conrad Septim stepped in and the engines exploded into life. He knew this would be an interesting campaign indeed.

In orbit, the Mechanicus Cruiser Anima Iron turned it's guns onto the Rebel fleet, decimating the entire force. Anson Vect's survival was now essential, not only to the Tazenda Campaign, but to the entire Imperium. He didn't know, but the STC he was searching for didn't contain just one schematic, it contained all of the schematics humanity had ever created.

Among them, resided the necessary information to repair the Golden Throne, and ensure man's survival. But before the Crusades end, more and more races and powers would be drawn into the war.

Little did they know, the Hunt for the Future was on.

(How was it? Read, review, all that fun shit. I know this chapter is VERY short, even for me. Just roll with it.)


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